


The Bull, The Horns

by mettamark



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A dash of Cullen Rutherford/Male Lavellan, Blow Jobs, Changing POV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, M/M, Praise Kink, Probably More - Freeform, Self-Indulgent, Slow work in progress, emotionally constipated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mettamark/pseuds/mettamark
Summary: Gaelin Lavallen is doing his best to fill his shoes as "The Herald of Andraste", trying to make things work. The Iron Bull finds his Dalish rogue is starting to get that funny look in his eye that everything is going tits up and is desperate for help. Too bad for both of them Gaelin is an idiot.





	1. Calm

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as I was playing because I have a lot of feelings about Iron Bull and needed to just throw them somewhere so a lot of this is directly related to my mindset during that part of the game. That being said this isn't anywhere near being done anytime soon (I play once every 4 months and write even less) so I don't wanna make any empty promises. Enjoy my shitty writing and extremely limited knowledge of DA.
> 
> This first chapter is sometime after the In Hushed Whispers quest.

Haven wasn’t the most exciting places the Iron Bull has had the pleasure of staying, but it was quiet and needed his help. Perhaps quiet isn’t the right word, his tent only so far away from Cullen and the new recruits, but he enjoyed the sound of blades crashing against each other. Fun to watch too. The Chargers liked picking on some of the more seasoned templars, just to keep themselves busy when they weren’t on a mission. Bull didn’t stop them, figured it would help train the recruits for real fights, the ones that weren’t as noble as they sounded in taverns. Plus with his ever watchful eye he could give a few pointers as needed, which were needed a lot with the constant flow of allies that Lavellan had been painstakingly raking in.

“Everything going alright Bull?” Gaelin would waltz up, head held high, shoulders back, standing bright as the sun with the rift crackling behind him. It was dangerously adorable to the Iron Bull, Lavellan oozing confidence despite how short he was, even for an elf. He could easily toss Gaelin across the lake and still manage a couple more feet for being so aerodynamic. 

“Yes boss,” Bull would reply, watching him run off to continue his rounds. This was a daily occurrence when they were in Haven. Gaelin would race around camp, checking to make sure everyone was comfortable or fed, suggesting and improving on their equipment. Nobody minded, after all he was an exceptional leader, even Bull couldn’t help but admire his enthusiasm.

At first the Iron Bull didn’t know how the Inquisition would go, but after meeting Gaelin at Storm Coast he found himself completely charmed by him. The Inquisition was going to do well with someone like him, no matter who he _was_.

Bull watched silently as Lavellan bantered with Cullen, who was currently tearing his hair out over the new mages they acquired from Redcliff. The two were beginning to get more friendly with each other, having longer discussions about training and even sparring here and there to keep Cullen on his toes. Bull never intervened, there was plenty of time to give Gaelin pointers on the field, this should be when he’s off duty.

“He’s changed hasn’t he Chief?” Krem was handing him a tankard of ale and an apple, he took the ale. 

“Time travel can do that to you,” he laughed, taking a long drink. Iron Bull didn’t want to think about it too hard, magic wasn’t something he was keen on thinking about at all. It was a tool, a stressful tool.

“Did he say anything about what happened? You were with ‘im after all.” Krem settled down on his log, looking at Lavallen. 

Bull grunted a no, watching as the elf challenged Cullen to another duel. His face was still bright, but his shoulders were tense, even from here. “Not to me, he was cooped up in the chantry for a whole day getting grilled by Leliana. Only thing he asked me about was how I felt about the mages.” He fought a smile, remembering the elf’s desperate attempt at flirting. As much as he admired Gaelin he knew the guy was just trying to get him to open up.

“Well something’s getting to him, ever since then he’s been fussing over everyone more than usual. I even caught him suffering through a conversation with Solas of all people. Sera told me he wouldn't stop apologising for taking her with ‘em either, figured he woulda done the same with you.” Krem took a bite of his apple, there was something he didn’t want to say and Bull let it hang in the air.

“Whatever it is it’s for the best. He should know what’s going on with his people if he’s going to keep this Inquisition together.” Iron Bull continued to watch as Gaelin took a leaping strike at Cullen, playfully tackling him to the ground. The commander was flushed red, successfully knocked on his ass by an elf in front of all his soldiers.

“Maybe, figured you might be a bit jealous now that he’s not bringing you on missions as much anymore.” With a laugh Krem slapped him on the back, cold metal hitting his bare skin. Bull sputtered in response, attention ripped away from the tiny rogue.

“I’m not the only warrior here!” The Bull punched him back, laughing as Krem recoiled, only to lurch toward him in an attempt to grapple the qunari. The two tussled in the snow, trying to get the other in a headlock, which was proving incredibly difficult for Krem since he kept getting poked by Bull’s horns. 

This dumb wrestling helped, for what it’s worth, Bull didn’t realize how invested he was in Gaelin’s attention, and this distracted him from whatever was happening with Cullen over there. Krem might of been right, but Bull didn’t want to admit it, so instead he channeled all his frustration into winning their little fight. Which he did, effortlessly. Krem laughed, slamming his hand in the snow, “I yield! I yield! Haha! Get off me you big bastard!”

Bull pulled his arms away from him, allowing Krem to crawl away and dust himself off. Between the booze and the fighting the air felt lighter, and Gaelin was nowhere to be seen.

-

At this point it was eating Bull alive. It had been weeks since Gaelin went on a mission with him and he could only beat up the Chargers so many times before it stopped being fun. They were waiting until the mages were properly trained to close the rift, and Gaelin was doing _something_ with Blackwall about locating wardens. This wouldn’t be a big deal if it wasn’t for the fact that Bull was being completely ignored now. Any attempt at conversation with the elf was shrugged off, and anytime he caught Gaelin looking he would immediately avoid him and pretend to be busy. 

It wasn’t even about jealousy, because the Iron Bull was not jealous. It was about what Krem said, Lavellan _had_ changed, and it had to do with Redcliff.

With Gaelin successfully avoiding him Bull managed to find a pattern in his movements. Having just returned from a mission, he would make his rounds as normal, selling useless weapons, chatting up his other companions, busying himself the entire day until just after sunset he would retire to the tavern for some peace. Even though the tavern was incredibly busy it was the best time for Gaelin to be alone, which he almost always was save for the few times Dorian joined him. Today however, he was alone.

“Mind if I steal a spot? You don’t take up as much space so I figured I could squeeze in.” The Bull gave a wink, slotting into the seat next to Gaelin with practiced ease.

“B-by all means,” Lavellan took his arm off the table, putting up his polite air as he took a long drink.

“Thanks boss,” Bull motioned for a drink, casually stretching his arms in front of him. “So, still need that bodyguard or should the Chargers be heading out?” His tone was playful, but he meant it if it was what Gaelin wanted.

The elf almost choked on his drink, “W-what!?” He wiped his mouth of ale, “I'm sorry, I meant-what would give you that idea?” Unfortunately he looked like a kicked puppy, face twisted in concern. Perhaps that was too harsh.

“Well I just mean you aren't comfortable with me anymore, figured whatever you saw in the future had you too nervous to confront me so instead here I am.” The Bull shrugged, thanking the barmaid for his drink. “I don't mind if you don't want me on the team anymore, just wanted to know sooner than later to start looking for a new job.”

Gaelin looked at him like he had two heads, which would be horribly uncomfortable with the horns. “Bull-no, of course I need your help I just…” He looked inside his cup for answers, but only found ale. “I'll be honest with you, as long as it's not here.”

The Iron Bull didn't need to be told twice. He downed his drink in a few, noisy gulps, watching Gaelin shrug and do the same. The two got up from their places, leaving a few gold behind, and made their way to the door. Gaelin lead the way to his cottage, thankfully not too far away from the tavern. Bull didn't dare say a word, believing that Lavellan would tell him everything upon arriving. 

“Alright Bull, I'll admit it, I have been avoiding you.” Gaelin sighed, plopping down in a seat, clearly exacerbated. “I've been scared.” He looked different than normal, his face wasn't in a tight smile, his shoulders dropped and he had bags under his eyes. Now that they were talking privately he let go of his confident appearance, no longer an agent of the Inquisition, now just a man.

“Of me?” Bull probed, hoping that wasn't the case.

“Of you dying,” Gaelins voice was so weak he almost didn't even hear him. “You-you and Sera were infected with red lyrium-it was killing you and-and then you offered up your life to bring me back and I-" He spoke frantically, hands running through his hair. This hadn't been the first time Bull had seen someone break down like this, but it was the first time over himself. It made his heart swell, at least a little bit, knowing that Lavellan had just been concerned for his safety.

“Boss, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.” Iron Bull kneeled at his feet, pulling Gaelins hands away from his face. “Whatever ghosts you've been seeing aren't real.” Gently he placed those hands onto his own scarred face, trying to tether him back to reality.

Bull had spent the last couple months adventuring with Lavellan, and perhaps he misunderstood what kind of person he was. Gaelin was a strong leader, he took charge and made hard decisions, but it was naive of the Iron Bull to think he was used to this sort of life. In front of him was a man on the verge of tears because someone he cared about laid down his life for him, something he wasn’t used to dealing with, maybe didn’t believe he deserved. Whatever the case was, Bull had to help him, if the Inquisition was going to get anywhere Gaelin was going to need something to keep him steady. And Bull believed in Gaelin.

Tears threatened to spill over as Lavellan searched Bull’s face, his breath coming and going too quickly for his body. “Don’t fight it boss.” The pitiful whine that escaped him made Bull’s heart break, watching his panicked expression twist into an ugly sob. Gaelin lurched forward, pulling the Bull’s neck into a tight embrace, head buried in his arms. He shuddered with every breath, tears flooding down his face, and cried over his companion.

The Iron Bull waited it out, simply petting the small of his back as he whispered empty praises that fell on deaf ears. As quickly as his knees started to ache Gaelin was pulling away, wiping tears and snot from his face with his sleeve like a child. “I-I’m sorry I’m such a fool, I can’t imagine what you might think of me, crying over a false future...mourning someone right in front of me.” He laughs at himself, deflecting from how broken up he was just minutes before.

Bull shakes his head, he can’t let Gaelin go back to avoiding his feelings or this was all for nothing, “It takes a strong man to face his demons, and it takes a strong leader to continue in spite of them.” He looked thoroughly exhausted, but at least now his smile was genuine as he caressed Bull’s face.

“I thank you for this Bull, I hope I didn’t give you cause to worry too much. I’ll be fine.” Bull can see the window to his soul closing with each word, unable to do anything to stop it. It stings something inside him, but even the Bull wants to avoid confronting this pain. He stands, dusting off his knees.

“Well Boss, I know I’m not as good as a healer, or as pretty, but when it comes to touchy feely stuff I’m damn good at it. My methods are unorthodox and the pay is terrible, but if you ever need to deal with any of that inside garbage you can come to me, got that Boss?” The Bull cracks his back, hoping his casual tone would help lighten the mood. He was a master at understanding people and their needs, and it seemed like Gaelin was going to need a lot.

“Of course Bull, I’d be glad to hire you as my personal shrink.” He’s joking again, but Bull believes that he’ll come for him if he needs to. If not he’s going to have to follow him to the tavern again and throw him over his shoulder.

“You know where to find me,” the Bull tries to wink as he turns to the door, but it doesn’t really work and just leaves Lavellan snickering again. Something deep inside him stirs as he takes one last look at him, eyes puffy and red from crying, that soft smile spread across teeth worried lips, he tries to push that one down too.

-

“-of course Blackwall won’t admit it even if you strapped him to a chair at knife point, but you didn’t hear that from me!” Gaelin’s trying his hardest not to laugh, hiding coyly behind his hand as the Bull grins down at him.

“I think I can keep a secret,” now he’s giggling, and the cold winds feel especially warmer today. It had been only a couple days since the incident, and Gaelin announced they’d be closing the rift by weeks end. The Bull would like to believe he helped him gain his confidence back, but in all honesty he didn’t really do anything. 

“I’ve got to get going Bull, but we’ll talk later!” At this point Krem had returned from his own training, giving the elf a polite nod. “You as well Krem, I’d like to hear some tales of your adventures sometime.” And he’s off with a pep in his step and a smile plastered on his face.

“Wow, what’d you do to make this happen? Used some of that Ben-Hassrath training on ‘em?” Krem scoffed.

“Nope, just a good ol’ fashioned pep talk.” Truth be told the training did help a little, but Bull wasn’t going to give Krem the satisfaction.

“Chief!!” Krem’s voice was a loud whisper as he pulled him by the straps. “That’s an agent of the Inquisition! You can’t just-Cassandra will kill you- **Leliana** will kill you!” He looked over their shoulders frantically, as if one of the two most terrifying women in all of Haven were standing right next to them. 

Bull erupted in laughter, clapping Krem on the shoulder for support as he doubled over. Of course he would think that he fucked Gaelin, especially after the state he left the poor elf in. Perhaps he should of, maybe then things would start to get more interesting around here, who knows.


	2. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ones a little longer, hope you enjoyed the first part. This starts around the middle of In Your Heart Shall Burn.
> 
> Plot happens, cheers.

It was a mistake, the whole thing. Gaelin never should've survived, Andraste picked the wrong idiot to save. This was horrible, and it was all his fault. Corypheus said he jumped in the way, tried to stop him, maybe he thought he was doing something brave but at the moment he couldn’t say. It was just a piece of something he couldn’t even properly remember. Now, Gaelin regrets. He doesn’t regret saving refugees or making the Hinterlands more peaceful, how could he? He regrets all the lives that were lost because of him, because of something he started and couldn’t even finish with his own hand. Damn this hand, and damn this mark too.

The first thing Gaelin did was run for the mountains, for wherever his people had traveled. He knew how to track fleeing masses of people, he’s done it before. He thought that if only he kept going he’d find them quicker, they couldn’t be more than a day ahead of him. Sleep and food could wait, so long as he kept walking.

He tried to think of what went wrong, tried to imagine his blades slicing open Corypheus’ neck, ripping the archdemon dragon to pieces with his bare hands. It made his blood boil, he felt like an idiot for not even trying but he had to distract the army. This didn’t make his guilt go away. 

He remembered the people he couldn't save, and damned himself for not being able to get there sooner. The alchemist, his screams, his heart felt cold. 

The day came, and the night came, yet he still lagged behind their trail. All the camps were cold, the tracks disappearing in the snow, it was only going to get harder the further away he was. He had to keep going. He had to keep walking.

He thought about the past, when he used to wander, about his home. He could see the isolation stretched out in front of him just like those years ago. Hunting had been a necessity, and he was good at it, the best some would say. People relied on him, it made Gaelin feel important, like he belonged. When that ended he vanished, finding use elsewhere, desperately trying to find a new home. It had been years since he called anywhere home. He realized now Haven had become home, a place that depended on him, a place where people smiled and were happy that he returned safely. A place that was safe.

Desperation became stronger the more time passed. Gaelin’s body felt heavy, his limbs were numb, white eyelashes froze together, lips cracked and bleeding. All he wanted to do was sleep, give up, return to the wilderness and fade into obscurity. The world would remember him as the knife-ear that killed the world, but he was so tired, if only there was a sign that he was close. Anything to help him push through.

He kept his mind busy, tried to grasp at anything to keep him moving. Gaelin thought of his companions, people he had began to care for and fight for. Each had a reason for believing in the Inquisition, each had a cause that brought them to him. Some he had to seek out, like Blackwall and Sera, others had been with him since the beginning like Cassandra and Leliana, some sought him out, like Dorian and the Iron Bull. A horrible pain wrenched through him and he couldn’t help himself form crying out. They were there, when Corypheus cornered him, he told them to go but he didn’t know if they made it. He knew this would happen, he knew he shouldn’t have relied on Bull again, what he would do to start everything over. 

Everything started to go numb by now, it was so hard to see clearly anymore. There was something pulling him forward, be it Andraste or the Elder Gods he did not know, but despite the sobs that overcame him he kept marching. A stumble had him pressing his hands to a firepit, it still felt warm, there were embers, he could curl up and warm himself for a minute if he wanted. But he didn’t want to, the pull was overwhelming, and he pressed on, one final push until he heard it.

“Gaelin!” “Levallen!” “Boss!”

Everything went black, but he knew he found home.

-

The days after were a blur, sometimes Gaelin would wake up and forget where he was, try to get up and start walking before his pain stopped him or somebody else would. The first time he woke they told him he slept for a day, but his mind was so hazy he couldn’t stay conscious and slept for another, this time far more restless. They insisted he stay put, that he almost died, to never pull a stunt like that again. Somebody cried, maybe it was him, though it was probably Cullen. As he gained his strength he listened to the whispers, people were saying he came back from the dead bathed in white light, the Herald of Adraste lives. Mostly he just heard Josephine, Cullen, Lelliana and Cassandra bickering, Mother Giselle watching over him as he rested. She talked to him a lot, let him know what had been going on, how people were doing. It was both relieving and immensely stressful, and always left him feeling guilty.

Then the time came when enough was enough, and by Mother Giselle’s singing she rallied the people together, and Gaelin had to make a choice. With Haven destroyed they would need to find a new home, and Solas pointed him in the right direction.

-

“Come in” It had been a long month between the fall of Haven and setting up at Skyhold, and Gaelin had been completely overwhelmed with his duties. It was hard before when he was simply an _agent_ of the Inquisition but now, Andraste bless him, he _was_ the Inquisitor. The world had beaten him to hell and back, and he kept fighting.

“You’re not too busy are you Boss?” The Iron Bull had just stepped into his chambers, which was one of the last things on the renovation list, he had insisted on this.

Currently he was extremely busy, dealing with paperwork, sending messages, giving orders, the usual. “Not for you Bull,” he lied, continuing to sift through papers.

“I came by to make sure you were doing alright, haven’t seen you around much these days.” 

Gaelin didn’t even glance up from his work to respond, “Yes Bull, just trying to get the Inquisition back in order before we deal with the impending assassination. Trying to keep the chantry happy as always, before we have them banging down our doors too.” He’s mumbling to himself now, scribbling down a note to remind himself later about a message to send to some noble. Suddenly his face is being pulled away by a strong grey hand, and he doesn’t know when the Iron Bull got so close but he’s here now and his eyes demand attention.

“You haven’t come to me since that night, I wasn’t joking.” Gaelin doesn’t even remember what he’s talking about for a moment, lost in the 101 things going through his head.

“I-” He’s desperately trying to remember what he was about to do now, but Bull is demanding an answer, he just can’t think of all of this at once.

Or the Bull demands him? Because he had just picked Gaelin up from where he was standing and hoisted him over his shoulder in once smooth motion. He goes red in seconds, trying to wriggle his way out, “Bull! Set me down! What has gotten into you!? This is rediculou-” Gaelin is then tossed onto the dusty old bed like spare pocket change.

“Alright Boss, talk.” Bull sits next to him, the bed creaking so loud he swore it was going to break at any second. Instead Gaelin simply gaped at Bull, unsure of where to even begin, let alone if he wants to. “Tell me how you got to camp, after we were separated.”

The memory sends a chill down his spine, no, he really didn’t want to think about that. He actually avoided thinking about that at all costs. Even now he continued to avoid thinking of it, with Bull staring him down with his stupid all-knowing eye. After minutes of stubborn silence Bull is the first one to speak.

“Well,” he sighed, “I was ready to turn around as soon as that dragon showed up. I mean shit, fighting dragons gets me hard any day of the week, but when I saw you on the other side of it, with all that demon shit to deal with, _alone_...I wanted to stay, but you know how frail Dorian and Sera are, they woulda been squashed like two dung beetles if I didn’t get them out of there.” Bull laughs nervously, eye scanning the room. “I tried to dig for you, we didn’t see where you went so I thought maybe you got caught under the snow but my men managed to pull me away, Krem had a black eye for days.” At this he turns to Gaelin with a smile, its somber, but it makes him feel a little better.

Gaelin tries his best to listen, as much as it hurts to. Everybody else avoided talking about what happened when he went down, whether or not they even thought he was alive. Sure afterwards they all swore on their gods they did, but at least Bull was being honest with him.

“I-” his voice betrays him, so he clears his throat and tries again, stronger this time, “I never stopped walking. I didn’t know how long I had been out, and I underestimated how far everyone might of been. I knew that every step counted, I did a lot of thinking too.” Gaelin tries to fight it even now, the tears welling up, the thoughts clamoring to take over him. 

“What kept you going?” Bull shook him away from himself, he was good at that, it kept him grounded, his thoughts linear.

“I failed everyone, I caused all this chaos, but selfishly I thought,” his voice cracked, his face felt wet, “this is my home, and these are my people. I had to find them, to help them through this, no matter what.”

The Iron Bull let out a heavy sigh, turning and petting Gaelin’s head as he cried. “You may feel as though you failed, but look at us now. Look at this fortress and tell me you failed to keep us safe. War is like this, you win some, you lose some-good people die, but you have to keep going. I don’t know who you were before the Inquisition, but you’re a damn good leader Boss, I’m glad to be fighting by your side.”

His words were warm, and his hands were warmer, Gaelin couldn’t help but press one of them to his face again. It comforted him, made him feel protected. It was terrifying to be so emotionally vulnerable with someone so involved in the Inquisition, but Bull really wasn’t like the others. Half of his inner circle came from the politics, and the rebellion, involved in all the complicated nonsense of templars and the chantry and it was hard to keep up with it all. Then there were his outcasts, people who rejected where they came from and stayed despite the slander they received. Those brought him the most comfort, he knew what it was like to be detested, to stand out among people who swear they’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. People were complicated, it was so much easier to stay on the sidelines in the shadows like Cole. He envied him greatly.

As much as Gaelin hated crying, it made his heart feel lighter, and he knew the Bull was trying to help him get past this. “You’re right, I can’t keep doing this to myself.” He sniffled, pressing his palms to his eyes for a moment. “We’re fighting Corypheus, not ourselves.” Gaelin let out a long, shaky breath, wiping tears away. “The only thing I can do is make sure they don’t die in vain.”

Bull hummed his approval, “Don’t die doing it either, take your time, the world won’t explode because the Inquisitor decided to take it easy once in awhile.” 

“Does the Qunari usually have talks like this, I can’t imagine big guys like you crying over spilled blood.” Gaelin smirked, he truly didn’t know much about the Bull’s people, it didn’t help that the only Qunari he knew was the one sitting in front of him.

“Not exactly, talking isn’t really as necessary, and can sometimes get you re-educated depending on what you say. Usually we just, feel. We shout when we’re angry, bash a few heads in, laugh when we’re happy, same as everyone else. We cry, not really in others company, but we don’t stop it either. The sex helps too, lots of pent up emotions end up rubbed out one way or another,” Iron Bull laughs, a wolfish grin on his face. “I’m good at talking, but I’m just as good as fucking. I’ve got enough stories that just walking past Mother Giselle has her blushing.” He lays back, eyes settling closed for a moment. It felt like he needed this just as much as Gaelin. It was hard for him to understand what or why he did. Did he feel guilty for not coming back to find him? Or was he worried for Gaelin’s sanity? It felt alien to him that someone would care enough to truly pry, maybe he was just a kind man.

“Oh really? Explains why so many of my soldiers have been walking funny.” He looks over Bull, curious what might attract people to him. Gaelin wasn’t a fool, he had flirted with Bull enough to know what he himself enjoys about the Qunari, but what would others see? Was it his hulking size, hopefully with a proportional package. Perhaps it was the calming aura he had, like a gentle giant. “Can’t say I don’t wonder what your people are like in bed.” Gaelin mumbled, eyes tracing along every scar and dip of muscle.

The Bull sat up again, if he could tell Gaelin was ogling him it didn’t show. “I think you’re far too fragile to ride the bull, I might end up breaking you.” Oh this was doing wonders for his fantasies, mind racing with scenarios, fueling the elf on.

“Maybe I’d like you to.” Maker help him, he really said that with his own filthy mouth. This wasn’t what he meant to start when he asked, but the bridge had already been burned and his eyes were locked on the expanse of muscle in front of him. His body ached to touch him, it felt so good to have Bull’s hands on him he could only dream of what it would feel like to be pinned down by one of those massive paws.

“Now think hard about this Boss, Qunari don’t fuck for love, if you want this you’re going to have to think hard about-” Bull was talking and it was driving Gaelin insane, he didn’t care anymore, the man had seen him at his worst already what was a mindless romp going to do when he’d already laid down his heart. Maybe it would hurt him later, but now he didn’t care. 

Lavellan slid effortlessly against his back, chest pressed firmly as his arms snaked around shoulders and rubbed against his chest. His breath was hot against his neck, and he whispered against the shell of Bull’s ear, “Stay, distract me from myself.” Everything happened so quickly after that, the world turned upside down as Gaelin suddenly found himself underneath the Iron Bull, mouth full of tongue, arms wrapped around his thick neck. Maker’s breath, he tasted like alcohol and spiced meat, and he only wanted more. It was normal to feel small standing next to the Bull, but to be _under_ him felt completely different. Gaelin thought about what Bull said, how the Qunari just feel, and he tried to take that to heart. He was terrified, absolutely terrified, but so ungodly hard. Bull had his legs on either side of him, each thigh as thick as two of his own, with one of those massive hands threaded in his hair, pulling him into the kiss. His lips were rough and scarred, just like the rest of him, and Gaelin tried to suppress a moan. It was overwhelming, yet not nearly enough.

The Bull pulled away, allowing Gaelin to breathe again, and continued to kiss across his jaw, taking one of his ears into his teeth. His cock twitched with want, and he groaned, nails dragging against Bull’s shoulder. “Touch me,” he begged, holding on to him as if for dear life.

“Gladly,” Bull chuckled, pressing more kisses on his neck. Pulling his hand away from Gaelin’s hair he trailed fingers over the buttons of his top, running over the fabric as he slowly began to unbutton it. All the while mouthing and biting at the sensitive nook of the elves’ neck, causing his hips to rut up, trying to find friction in any way he could. It was maddening, he just wanted Bull pressed hard against him, he couldn’t stand the bit of distance the man kept hovering over him. Gaelin squirmed, trying to pull the Bull down to him, press flesh against aching flesh. A deep chuckle rumbled through his body like an earthquake as the qunari settled his hips against the elves’ own groin, coaxing a pleased groan from his plump lips. 

“Sometimes I think you’re far too pretty to be the Inquisitor,” Iron Bull grins down at him as he begins to subtly rut against the bulge in Gaelin’s clothes. Oh fuck, he was so thick, and so hard against the elf it made his mind go numb for a moment. The Bull was responding to _him_ of all people, the raggedy Dalish with greasy silver hair and unassuming features. It made him swoon. 

“Hah, perhaps you should lock me away then?” Gaelin sighed, enjoying the slow pressure against his cock, “...throw away the key.” He wasn’t paying attention to his own response, more interested in responding to the Bull’s movement and his own pleasure. 

Iron Bull merely smiled at him before sitting back on his haunches, carefully removing Gaelin’s pants. “Would you like that?” His hands trailed down the olive skin of the elves’ chest, just to gently massage his upper thighs for a moment as he whispered. “Would you want me to steal you away from the world and have my way with you, whenever I want? To fuck you gently, or treat you so rough it takes days to recover?” One of those hands found Gaelin’s heavy sack and gently handled it, rubbing thick fingers over the skin and enjoying the twist in the man’s expression as he teased. “Would you let me string you up on the chandelier like a trophy and admire you all day, watching your muscles strain and listen to your sweet voice as you beg for me to fuck you?” Gaelin watched his dick twitch, pre-come dribbling thick down his shaft as the Bull continued his ministrations. It was torture, the things Bull was saying to him as his hips jerked helplessly. Andraste would strike him down if he truly was her chosen just from the pictures that flashed in his head, let alone what it was doing to him.

“Y-yes Bull of course, anything,” he sounded so fucking desperate, breath shaky as he pulled himself up. Bull’s fingers were now exploring the base of his cock, leaving gentle touches with his calloused fingers. Coming face to face Gaelin he chased down another kiss, a hand pressed sweetly against the qunari’s cheek as he urged him further. More, he cried, he wanted to get lost in this role play, find a paradise where he was no longer fighting a war but being used, and cherished. “Give me the word and I’ll do as you ask, I’ll take everything-anything you have to offer.” Gaelin was playing a role now, the submissive servant who wants nothing but to please his master. It lit something deep in the pit of his stomach, and even the Bull felt the shift in the air.

“What a needy little elf you are,” he smiled, “but you’ve done so good, I think I’ll give you a reward.” Gaelin’s heart throbbed at the praise, a wave of embarrassment suddenly crashing onto him as Bull laid on his back, pulling the man by the hips onto his chest. What was he even doing, getting so worked up over the slightest praise? It was hard to chase the thought with his dick standing proudly above the Bull’s lips, which were shiny with saliva. Gaelin took a breath, eyes transfixed as he watched the qunari’s tongue swipe at the head of his cock, staring right back at him. He bit down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth as he watched, fascinated by the Bull’s movements.

Iron Bull inched Gaelin closer, mouthing at the side of his dick for a moment before returning to the head. Everything was so calculated and gentle, but it didn’t leave the elf any room to think. Wet lips nuzzled against a thick vein, “You have such a pretty cock, my little elf.” Gaelin took in a sharp breath, watching carefully as the Bull slowly took the length of him in his mouth, heat engulfing his throbbing cock. Gaelin’s hand reflexively grabbed onto one of the qunari’s horns as he tried to resist the urge to buck into that tight hole. He almost pulled it back until a groan shook him to the core, urging him to hold on. So this really _was_ Bull’s thing, Gaelin smiled down, letting a long moan escape his lips as Bull pulled back, only to be pulled forward again by the horn. 

“I-is this my present Bull?” A harsh suck pulled out another groan as he got his answer, taking the literal reigns of the situation with both hands. Gaelin couldn’t allow himself to be cruel to Bull, so he set an easy pace, fucking deep into his mouth. The Bull did beautifully, taking his member as if it were as natural as breathing, coaxing out lewd sounds from the elf who could hardly contain himself at this point. Gaelin had already been so far gone from just the Bull’s words, let alone his mouth. Gaelin assumed it would be alright if he chased his own orgasm like this, so as his hips stuttered he hardly noticed Bull had even moved at all until his hands were kneading the flesh of his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. There was oil on the tips of his fingers, wet against his skin, and his stomach coiled with excitement. 

Gaelin’s eyes had hardly left Bull’s face, save for when they occasionally fluttered closed. Iron Bull was clearly being affected, eyes in a half daze, mouth sloppy with saliva, pliant to the elves’ thrusts. It had been a sight Gaelin didn’t expect to want, but Maker did it do things to him. Fingers inched closer to their destination, oily digits circling the tight of his asshole. Gaelin hummed with approval, already so close to climax. “Please,” he whispered, immediately feeling the slow intrusion of one thick finger. It almost pushed him to the edge right then, but he held on a little longer, not wanting any of it to end just yet. Bull pushed deeper, insistent now, and Gaelin let out a satisfied moan at the stretch. This was nothing like his own thin fingers, and nothing like the men he had bed before. These were the Iron Bull’s, and they probed deep, rubbing inside of him with purpose. Maker’s breath, Gaelin thrust hard as Bull pressed, finding exactly what he was looking for. 

“Oh Gods Bull I-I can’t,” he panted, pulling hard on those horns as his movements became more frantic. “Bull please, please!” Gaelin felt Bull suck harder, push against his prostate harder, urged him to fuck harder. Everything was too much, his shirt was sliding off his shoulders, sweat dripping down his skin. Gaelin felt so tense, he felt like he was going to break, and he pulled those horns one final time before he shattered, crying out as he came into the back of the Bull’s throat. His back arched over him like a bow, hands trembling as he kept the Bull pressed against his groin, while the qunari massaged those nerves, urging even more cum out of him than he had thought possible. Gaelin moaned pitifully, far too over sensitive for Bull to continue, yet he didn’t let up until he was sure the elf was completely spent down his throat. 

Pulling himself away Bull let in a deep breath, a satisfied smile plastered across his face. “Did you enjoy your gift my little elf?” Gaelin blinked away tears, trying not to find pride in the Iron Bull’s slightly hoarse voice. He didn’t even know when he was crying, but the elf smiled back, pressing a chaste kiss against the Bull’s lips.

“Are you alright? Did you want to continue?” The Bull’s words were gentle as he combed through Gaelins hair.

“I’m fine, I just need a moment,” although he said it, his mind started to turn fuzzy. A warm pleasantness started to settle into Gaelin’s bones, his eyes glazing over for a moment before he shook himself free of it. “I..” his face scrunched up in thought as he tried to piece his wants together, “I-I want to help you finish, at the very least.” Gaelin pressed his hand against Bull’s straining pants, he could almost feel the pain the poor qunari must of been in the whole time, so unbelievably hard even now. Unresponsive fingers tried the fastenings on Bull’s clothes, but his hands were pulled away with a chuckle.

“Here, I have an idea.” Gaelin was pliant in his arms, allowing Bull to position him any which way he deemed fit. This lead the elf to be on his knees, elbows folded underneath his chin, face-down-ass-up. From where Gaelin could see Bull was grabbing more of that oil, and started to rub down the inside of his thighs, “I’m gonna need you to stay still like a good elf alright? You don’t have to do anything except keep your thighs tight, understand?” With his post-orgasm haze it was like trying to put a square in a triangle to get his mind working, but Gaelin did as he was told, tensing up his muscular thighs for whatever the Bull had planned for him.

It felt like an eternity of waiting, Gaelin couldn’t see what Bull was doing now but it was quiet, and curiosity prickled the back of his spine. “Are you ready my pretty elf? Can you stay tight for me?” The Bull was leaned over him completely, breath tickling his long ear. 

“Yes,” Gaelin whined, tensing himself up again as he felt the wet head of the Iron Bull’s cock press against them. It pressed slow, pushing in between the oily thighs with one long movement. Like this Gaelin could only imagine what it would be like to feel that thick dick inside of him, and he shuddered under the weight of it. Bull let out a sigh as he finally bottomed out, hips flush against hips. The feeling of it all was intense, how much of Bull there was, the way it pressed against the underside of his own cock, and how amazing it felt to be completely surrounded by the man again. 

Bull began to move almost immediately, far more hurried than Gaelin had been. The elf felt guilty for having forced Bull to wait so long, and tried his best to keep his legs together for Bull to thrust into. “Am I tight enough for you?” Gaelin breathed, arching his back slightly. The angle made Bull brush up his own length, which was slowly coming back to life.

“Ng, fuck yea,” he was already beginning to pant, “Y’know Boss, you have gorgeous legs, those pants you always wear are extremely form fitting.” Bull sounded happy, hands fisted tight into the sheets. Gaelin fought a blush, pressing back against his hips.

“Too many trips to the tavern I suppose,” he hummed as Bull kissed at his neck. This felt nice, and his heart fluttered at the intimacy of it all. “Perhaps I could get something tailored, something you might enjoy seeing me in.” Those kissed trailed their way around to his cheek and Gaeling found himself turning to accept a wet kiss, tasting his own musk on the Bull’s tongue. He thrust harder into his thighs, not quite speeding up, but thoroughly enjoying the drag of his cock against skin.

“You don’t know how hard I get, watching you run by on your way to see Cullen, makes me jealous Boss,” a stronger thrust jostled him a bit, as Bull brought one hand back up to grab hold of his side, “want you to be that eager for me, I’d take such good care of you compared to that pillow princess.” He scoffed in Gaelin’s ear, pulling himself upright as his ministrations became more pointed. “I bet you’d open up real nice for me, could make a whole day of it, slowly working that hole of yours so that I can fit this whole thing all the way inside.” With that Iron Bull thrust deep, a wet slap echoing in the chamber from the contact. 

Gaelin let out the most pitiful kreening sound he’d ever made before, leaning back into the qunari. His whole face was getting flushed, the things he was saying, whether they were true or not, just hearing the Bull getting so worked up over him was too much. “Oh yes? Perhaps Cullen should be the jealous one, watching me spread open on his bed, screaming out Bull,” his hips bucked harder and Gaelin played it up, moaning out, “Bull!..”

“Fuck...Boss,” he was leaning his head back now, eyes closed as if he was attempting to picture Gaelin’s sweet words. The thrusts were gradually getting stronger, both hands holding his sides as he pounded into Gaelin’s tight thighs, Bull groaning the more the elf whined. Fingers began to bruise, the slapping of skin started to ache and Gaelin himself was feeling the heat of orgasm pool low in his stomach, twisting as Bull mumbled, “You’re doing so good my precious little elf, that’s it, just like that, mng…”

“Bull please, I-I need it,” His breathing hitched, right as the Iron Bull wrapped his arms all the way around Gaelin’s torso. It was constricting, with all of his skin pressed up against him like that it felt like he was drowning. “Bull! Please!” With the newfound leverage Bull was able to rut faster, his thrusts shorter, the head of his cock rubbing hard against Gaelin’s stomach.

“Again Boss,” Bull’s voice was absolutely wrecked, a low grumble shaking him to the core. It came suddenly, and Gaelin sobbed out his name as cum dribbled from his cock, too spent from his last orgasm, staining his ornate duvet. Bull didn’t let up, holding him just as tightly, supporting his full weight now that the elf had went almost completely limp. It took all of his energy just to keep his legs together, whimpering from overstimulation. A groan deep in Bull’s throat was the only warning before Gaelin felt a splash of warmth. It coated his skin, dripping down his body to join his own spunk underneath him. “Boss…” Bull whispered softly, pressing kisses against his shoulders as he snapped his hips forward once, twice, finally letting up on his tight grip.

Gaelin held himself up on shaking arms, the room so suddenly silent, their deep panting whispers on the wind. The elf glanced underneath himself to assess the damages and he had to compose himself at the sight. He had taken lovers in the past, learned what the differences between his race and others were when it came to the bedroom, adapted as needed. This however, made him tingle from head to toe. Gaelin’s stomach was dripping, the blanket thoroughly saturated with cum, a shudder told him that it was starting to trail down his legs as well, and he could barely keep himself up any longer. He turned his head back to Bull, who was pulling away, leaving his skin cold and lonely.

“Bull I-”

“Come here Boss,” The Iron Bull stood, wrapping his arms around the elf before pulling him away from the soiled bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit.”

Perhaps it was shock that stole his voice away first, but now that the Bull was carrying him the world suddenly felt heavy. His lips sealed, whatever he had wanted to say died as his head was stuffed to the brim cotton, and other dizzying feelings. Gaelin couldn’t really tell if he had tried to speak, but he was shushed anyway as he was lowered to the cold leftover bathwater. Bull took a washcloth and gently rubbed him down, only dipping him in the water to rinse him off. The temperature helped his mind to regain some of its functions, which he used to cuddle up to the qunari.

“Are you satisfied Boss?”

“Mn…” Gaelin nodded into the crook of his neck.

“I didn’t cross anything I shouldn’t have?”

Gaelin took in a long breath, his lids far too heavy.

“Would you like to take a nap?”

“Yes…” Gaelin lightly grumbled.

The Iron Bull let out a hearty laugh, pulling Gaelin close to his chest as he stood. The rest was a blur, Gaelin was already more than half asleep to even care. Somehow he was bundled up, and if they kissed he wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.


	3. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to come back with a kinda filler chapter, I really want to get the ball rolling a bit more with this. Mostly because I've sat on it for an insane amount of time (did I mention I started this in 2017? lmao). Anyway have fun, it's gonna get plot heavy again soon.

The soft turning of papers and fluttering of birds wings greeted Gaelin as he desperately tried to hold on to the lingering familiarity of a dream. It had made his heart throb, there was a bittersweet feeling, and his mind knew what it meant. It was the feeling of falling in love with a stranger in a dream, of spending a life together that was kind to you, only to open your eyes and realize it had never truly happened. 

Gaelin ran a hand over his face and through his tangled hair, sighing heavily. The fog of sleep was beginning to clear, it was time to get up and work. With a flick of his hand he tore away the soft furs of his blanket-which was curious, as he usually used the elegant duvet given to him by the Chantry as a gift. The cold bit as his form, and the present state of his bare skin caused the memories of the previous night to come back to him as suddenly as the voice from across the room,

“Inquisitor!”

Gaelin’s head snapped up, it was Josephine, she was standing by his desk with her notebook failing to cover her blushing smirk. 

“I apologize if I’ve woken you up, I was just grabbing some papers, I’ll only be a minute.” She turned her attention back to the desk, sifting through the half finished paperwork from yesterday. 

Only a bit shy, Gaelin decided to cover himself again, sitting up in his bed. The sun was already hanging high outside his balcony, that was odd, usually someone came to wake him, as per his request. “It is alright Josephine, I should be the one to apologize, I would of put them on your desk last night but-” He quickly bit his tongue, Maker’s Breath he had royally fucked up. “I should be getting to work, I don’t know what’s come over me, sleeping in.” Gaelin chuckled harshly, shaking his head. Work, yes, there was still a hundred and one things to do, his time with Bull only prolonged the inevitable.

Josephine cleared her throat, “No Inquisitor, I have to agree with Bull, he had requested everyone to let you take the day to rest. I…” She took a moment, her face twisting in thought. “I regretfully had not realized just how much has been put on you so suddenly, and I am grateful for what you’ve done so far, truly, but it has been weeks since we’ve arrived yet I don’t believe I’ve seen you take a single day for yourself. This may not be my place to say this, but we all care for you, it was...it was devastating to see you collapse on that hill in the freezing blizzard. It would be careless of us to let something like that happen again.”

The adviser had a pained look in her eyes, guilt flashing before him. Whatever else she had wanted to say died on the back of her tongue, waiting for the Inquisitor to respond. Did she expect the worst, did she want him to scold her for caring? That couldn’t be it, Gaelin was thinking foolishly, he was the one who was getting scolded.

Swallowing his pride Gaelin stood, furs wrapped around his waist as to keep his dignity in tact. “You are right Josephine,” he stepped close, aware of the sudden breath she took, “I have been unkind to you, as well as the others. Here I stand with the weight of Andraste on my shoulders, forgetting that I’m standing on the shoulders of my friends as well.” Gaelin touched her arm with a bitter smile. 

Josephine’s face softened, nodding at him, “I don’t expect you to be perfect Inquisitor, that is why we are here.”

“I am sorry my friend, truly, for making you worry.” Then Gaelin swallowed, bowing low. “I humbly request you continue to take care of me.”

“Of course!” She was laughing above him now, pulling on his shoulder, “Now stand up, jeez what would Cassandra say?”

Gaelin straightened out, his heart feeling lighter, a smile mirrored on his own face. Talking with the Bull made him realize his carelessness, morale was an important thing to keep up, and because of his own recklessness he had been unintentionally creating stress for his advisers and friends. Though in truth, he felt guilty for making his comrades worry, after all they had done for him.

“Now, I must get going, someone has to pick up the slack today after all. If I see you anywhere near the war room I’ll have Solas come by and preach to you again, understand?” Josephine straightened up her papers, wagging a finger at the elf.

“Yes of course Josephine,” the threat was strong, he had made the mistake of talking to the other elf about elvish things before, he now avoids him like the plague. 

“Good.” With that, his adviser exited his chambers, leaving him to the dim of the afternoon.

Gaelin crumbled, laying down with all the dramatics of someone who had to face up to what Josephine had said. A flash of red was beginning to spread to his ears as he groaned into his hands. The Iron Bull had told everyone to let him sleep in, and Josephine had seen him awaken completely naked. How was he to face this? Sleeping with the Qunari spy? People would talk, this could ruin the Inquisition if it crawled outside of these walls. His people would discredit him, look down on him for being unable to just keep it in his pants. What a fool Gaelin was, chasing his needs regardless of the consequences. 

And yet. Gaelin’s heart felt light, happiness bloomed across his face, his head dizzy with flashes of the previous night, curiosities sated, muscles a touch sore. This had been the first full nights rest he’s had in months, and he felt like laughing and cheering at the top of his lungs. 

The Iron Bull, he was such a mystery to Gaelin. The man treated him so kindly, so thoughtfully. He gave the elf just what he needed, and Gaelin was happy to give back tenfold. The fantasies they had shared, being strung up like a trophy, locked away for Bull’s exclusive use. His cock twitched at the thought, and who was Gaelin to deny himself a bit of pleasure on such a fine day?

-

Taking his time to get ready Gaelin discovered where his blankets had gone. They had been washed and put to dry on the balcony, likely Bull’s doing. He brushed his hair there, watching strands catch the wind and fly off. A casual outfit had been meticulously prepared, so that he appeared leisurely but smartly dressed. He had also done some light reading, grabbing a book off a nearby shelf and dusting it off. It wasn’t anything entertaining, the contents were brief historical anecdotes about dwarves, easily a couple hundred years old. After quickly becoming bored of that, he scanned the courtyard for anyone to have a quick chat with, and watched as a mustachioed tevinter walked purposefully toward the gardens. 

-

Gaelin kept a friendly air as he made a beeline for the gazebo, thanking people for their hard work and making sure to ask if supplies were low. It was cheating a bit, but he would order shipments tomorrow. He had seen Dorian escape underneath the cooling shade, and as he approached was surprised at the unusual friendship blossoming.

“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to him about this instead of me,” Dorian moved his chess piece, scowling. “Well,” he sighed, fingers drumming on the stone, “I suppose even a tevinter can be easier to talk to than-”

It seemed as if Gaelin was suddenly noticed by the two playing chess, Dorian’s eyes widening for a moment, as Cullen ran a hand through his hair. Gaelin couldn’t even fathom what conversations would happen between the mage and the templar-other than pointed slurs and bickering. Yet here they were, playing a friendly game and chatting like old friends. Cullen breathed in through his nose and smiled widely up at the elf, nodding as he greeted.

“Good evening Inquisitor, bored of resting already?” 

“I fear I’ve taken advantage of keeping myself busy once more, a day without paperwork or adventure is duller than Solas’ chattering.” Gaelin sighed, leaning against the column. 

“Combine all three and I’m sure you’ll have a sobering day.” Dorian smirked.

From what it appeared, Cullen looked to be toying with him, opting not to put his queen in check, and instead prolonging the game. By the amount of pieces left he had been picking them off slowly, one by one, backing the tevinter into a corner.

“I think you’re going to have to recruit some new company soon Gaelin.” Dorian’s pieces clicked harshly against the board, accidentally leaving himself wide open.

“Why is that?” 

“Because I actually had been excited to play chess with this lousy chicken just because he has a pretty face.” A mercy kill had Dorian groaning in frustration. “I don’t even know why I bothered, only masochists would play against this tyrant.” He shot up, scowling down at the offending pieces, silently cursing his ivory troops for his miscalculations.

“And here I was beginning to think you actually wanted to win, at least I could be of some service to you Dorian.” Cullen leaned back in his chair for a moment, his eyes flickering back to Lavellan before not so subtly straightening up again.

“Even in his humor he’s smug. You do know the Inquisition has a one brat policy, don’t you?” Dorian crossed his arms.

“Yet...I came before you, funny how things work out.” The templar rubbed his chin, attempting to mask his grin.

A moment of tension rose between the two, glaring daggers at each other. Gaelin almost had a mind to stop them from lashing out when Dorian made the first move.

“I don’t know how you do it Gaelin, putting up with this overstuffed queen everyday in the war room.” The tevinter clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically, “Do me a favor-if he wins, fire him.” Then turned, taking his leave as quickly as he had arrived.

How strange, it seemed like they were getting along quite well before he walked up. Not to mention there was no way it had taken him that long to get to the gazebo, even with minor distractions.

“I’ve suddenly lost my chess partner, care to join?” Cullen was always two things, cocky or impossibly formal. Sometimes there was talk of the feathered prima donna being a brown-noser, but in all honesty Lavallen didn’t get the same impression.

Yes he had his competitive moments, but so did the elf, and of course he made sure to win. The man was a strong fighter, he had been raised a templar, experienced more war than himself. The man’s past was riddled with failures and trials, though Gaelin admitted he did not know much of it, he did understand the burden. He had gained Lavallen’s trust quickly, supporting decisions that Cullen himself didn’t agree with, yet obeyed them wholeheartedly. It was a relationship built on respect, and who was he to deny a friendly game of chess.

“Perhaps if you stopped playing with the poor man he wouldn’t get so upset at losing.” Gaelin sat down, arranging his pieces in the starting positions. Was it too late to admit that he had never played? Then again, bluffing was his strong suit.

“Dorian’s always been one for dramatics, he’ll come back, always does.” A fond smile played across his lips as Cullen righted his half of the board. “You’ve been so busy lately it’s hard to pin you down for something other than work. Is it wrong for me to admit that seeing you burst into my office with an armful of orders brightens my day now?”

On second thought maybe brown nosing was something Cullen did, but it wasn’t a crime for Gaelin to soak it up like a praise starved sponge. The first one to move was Lavallen, he chose to play defensively, knowing full well what the templars tactics were on the field.

“Better me than Cassandra,” Gaelin smirked, watching his opponents moves carefully.

They chatted for awhile as they played. It took Gaelin a loss or two before he got the hand of how things worked, and after his first win Cullen laughed and shared a story about his sister.

“Truthfully I haven’t seen any of them in quite some time now. Do you have any family Inquisitor? I have to be honest, I’m unfamiliar with Dalish customs.”

That was right, even though he had a rift shaped hole in his memory that didn’t mean he forgot everything. There were fuzzy spots along the edge, cleared up only by second hand accounts from those who found him, and Corypheus himself. Lavallen’s family life though that, unfortunately, was clear as day.

“I haven’t had any contact with them for quite some time I’m afraid.” Gaelin’s plays were far more aggressive this time, taking more drastic risks to enclose upon Cullen’s king. “I lost my parents early on, with no siblings, so I had been raised by the tribe leaders. I don’t know where they’ve wandered to after the rifts, but it’s for the best.” A cutting blow had Cullen cornered, taking a moment to assess his next move.

“Why is that? Would they not believe in you being the Herald?” There was that name again, Gaelin always drowned it out when it came up. He used it like a tool, but that was the extent of what it mattered to him. 

“It is because I am an exile.” The words passed through his lips, distant and removed from Gaelin’s thoughts. He was intent on winning this match, choosing his words as carefully as his moves.

Cullen sputtered, “For what? When did that happen? As your adviser I feel as thought this is something worth mentioning sooner, by the Maker Lavallen.” He ran a hand through his hair, conflicting emotions ghosting over his face. “This could easily be used against you in the future-hell it could be getting dug up by some spy as we speak!”

“Please Cullen, there’s no need to be dramatic.” I’m already fucking the spy after all, he thought. “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t that severe. I was put on trial for murder by the elders, and they decided it best for me to leave the tribe. What would someone say now that I have slain in the name of the Inquisition? Death is not uncommon in times such as these, who can fault me for the sins of my youth when I have already atoned for them?”

Gaelin could tell his answer didn’t please the fretting templar, but it was irrelevant. He knew he was right, considering it was a glorified controversy from a forgotten time. After all, the event that transpired wasn’t truly Gaelin’s fault, but it didn’t matter as it wasn’t his call to decide what to do about it. They told him to leave, so he did.

“That’s-perhaps it may seem trivial now, but exile? Who did you do in? The elder’s son?” Cullen shook his head.

“Yes.” Then with that Gaelin placed his bishop next to his opponents king, thoroughly kicking Cullen’s ass.

It appeared as though the templar couldn’t process the conversation and the game at the same time as he buried his face in his hands with a long sigh. Winning felt even more satisfying than confusing the hell out of the pretty boy, successfully getting revenge for Dorian.

“You really do never cease to amaze me Inquisitor,” he chuckled, “now will I be getting the full story anytime soon or will your past continue to be shrouded in mystery?” 

“Another day, I’m supposed to be resting after all. This is one conversation I’d rather have behind closed doors, there could be spies listening.” Gaelin stood with a wink, knowing that he could easily escape dealing with the feelings that were brewing in the back of his mind. The Bull wasn’t there to chastise him, and he could only deal with so much emotional turmoil at once. This was something to face another day, preferably pre-facing some therapeutic oral.

“Ah! Yes of course forgive me,” Cullen chuckled nervously, rising to his feet. “I’d love to chat again sometime, if that’s alright. I feel as though I should get to know you better, now that a bit of the chaos has subsided.” There was a flash of red to his cheeks.

“That would be nice, it was good seeing you Commander.” 

“And you as well Inquisitor, I hope to see you soon.”

Pleasantries over, Gaelin absconded to his next destination with a smile and a wave. Even if it was his personal duty to check up on his friends, it was difficult to not hold favorites. That’s not to say Cullen was his _favorite_ , not by a long shot. The templar treated him like royalty, someone who deserves the utmost respect and praise regardless whether or not he deserved it. Truly Gaelin had only been at the right place and the right time, he wasn’t cut out to be a leader, as apparent from the days behind him. That was why he worked his tail off, to prove himself that they did not make a mistake when appointing him Inquisitor. Cullen however did satisfy him in other ways far less stressful than the constant reminder of his position. Dorian had said it best, he had such a handsome face, or maybe Lavallen didn’t want to admit his affinity for scars. Perhaps it was cruel, but knowing that the templar was married to his work made casual flirting an entertaining game. Being able to make Cullen blush just with a single look was a skill he had mastered back at Haven. 

Part of him wondered if Cullen did have feelings for him, but it was impossible. Love was not something one dwelled on while a war was going on. It was foolish, as anyone could perish at the drop of a hat. That must be why his feet avoided the tavern, just for today he thought. Giving the Bull space was necessary for clearing his thoughts, it was just a night of relieving sexual tension. Gaelin must of confused his feelings for something more because of their talks, the Bull was just helping him deal with his pain. It was intimate, but it wasn’t love.

Qunari didn’t fuck for love, and neither did Gaelin.

-

The Iron Bull was thorough in his approach to the delicate situation known as the Boss. Weaving lies was his forte, and all it took was a couple strategic conversations before half the camp decided to get all soppy and let Gaelin have a proper day off. He had first hung around the tavern, but not in his usual spot. This time he drank directly from the bar, face sour and alone. As predicted Varric was the one to plop down on a stool next to him, voice as soft as sugar lumps, asking him who pissed in his clown shoes. Light banter led to the first story, he had arrived earlier in the Boss’ chambers only to find him doubled over the floor from a dizzy spell. When he tried to help him up the poor elf was as hot as dragon’s breath, and after showing concern the Bull was brushed off, getting an earful of orders and sent away. This was a hard sell for Varric, but only at first.

“Because I came back and the idiot was passed out in his chair like it was his job! And you know how it is, he’d deny it to the Anderfels and back if it meant none of us felt even the tiniest shred of worry. Corypheus isn’t even going to get a single crack at him at this point, bastards gonna do himself in if we let ‘em.” And he takes a long swig of his ale, brow furrowed hard.

Josephine was a piece of cake, all it took was a ginger knock on the wall to get her attention. She had seen him on his way up to Gaelin’s chambers, so all he had to do was pout a bit, tell her about how bad off he was looking, and concern washed over her like a motherly flood. 

Perhaps the most dangerous encounter was Leliana herself, as he found her rounding the corner right after he finished tending to the Boss’ _needs_. She gave him a stern nod as a greeting, moving to push past him when Bull raised a hand to stop her.

“Is the Inquisitor not in? I had some important information from-”

“No.” The Iron Bull interrupted. Leliana reacted positively to straightforward answers, but he could get away with some wiggle room. After all a spy can tell a spy from a hundred meters away, and she was already wary of him enough. “He needs to rest, he’s worked himself sick.”

There was more tension in Cassandra’s face as she mulled it over, holding herself back on the third step from the door. If it truly was important enough to wake him, then it wasn’t right for him to stop her, so regretfully the Bull continued on his way out. Glancing out of his peripheral he watched her sigh, straightening out and stare at the door for a moment more, before turning and making her way back.

His whisper campaign went smoothly, and soon enough he was confident not a single soul was willing to make Gaelin do any hard work for at least a full 24 hours, lest they take on the burden of bothering their under the weather Inquisitor. And for Bull that meant he had the rest of the night leftover to drink and play cards with his men.

\----

The next morning Bull found himself doing the same thing as every other day. Gathering rumors, eavesdropping, drinking in the tavern, and sparring with the training dummies. Usually he has no qualms with it, he was here to siphon information back to the Qunari anyway, this was his just his day job. But there was something that felt extraordinarily dull on this particular day. Nobody had anything interesting to say, the bard had nothing new to sing, and hitting stuff just didn’t feel fun, which was by far the most fucked up thought he’d had all day. 

The only thing that was different was that the Boss was missing. Which, of course he was, the little elf probably slept the day away, then got bored and found something to work on anyway because the idiot didn’t know how to sit still. Bull hoped-almost prayed that Gaelin would finally take something to heart and change, but his boss was one of the most stubborn and fucked up person he’s ever met. Solas sounded like he was older than dirt and so stuck in his ways he bathed in tar, and somehow Gaelin was worse. Talk about morons that can't deal with their feelings, he even made Sera sound like an oversharer. Even if he was just his boss, it was difficult to watch someone like that. Gaelin cared, he worked hard, and was actually making a difference, it would be a damn shame if something happened to him. Bull imagined that’s why he’s gotten so protective of the elf; the world would literally implode and become overrun with demons and fade shit without him. If he was honest it probably had to do with the fact that Gaelin looked so small standing outside his balcony at the top of Skyhold.

Bull ran his hand over his face, sighing heavily, ready to give up on spying and call it a day. When a sudden presence spiked his adrenaline.

“You made him feel important, not the way he is now. Like someone whose been alone for a long time is made important.” Cole’s voice fluttered across the table from where he stood, floppy hat covering his face. 

“Fuck that’s never gonna stop being creepy kid, y’know that?” Bull let his muscles relax, slumping back in his chair, tension still twisted in his brow.

“He was alone for a long time, he felt unloved, he felt undesired. Weeks without human contact, years without a friend, now he’s surrounded by people and he doesn’t know what to do. Has to learn it again from scratch, how to be cared for.” Cole always sounded like some sort of fortune teller, and the Iron Bull didn’t understand what set it off but he knew that it was best to just sit there and ride it out. After a beat of silence he figured the boy was done, but he didn’t show any signs of moving, standing there like a lost child.

With another sigh Bull crossed his arms, “We both know who you’re talking about, best to keep this one just between you and me alright Cole?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Sorry. His thoughts have been so loud, there’s so much pain. It’s like when a dog that’s been hit by an owner is treated kindly by another, they don’t know how to do anything except howl.” The spirit thingy fidgeted in place nervously, fingers rubbing at the hem of his shirt.

Bull tried to internalize how that made him feel, which probably only made Cole’s mind reading go haywire. That...that sucked, hearing that. Cole always complicated everything, sure it brought out people’s secrets, which helped, but usually whatever he has to say is way too intimate to hear out loud. 

“Thank you for sharing Cole, I’ll,” he pushed out yet another sigh, “I’ll try to help him however I can.”

The boy’s head shot up, and although his expression hadn’t changed, there was a sudden lift in the atmosphere. Perhaps that’s what the guy wanted to hear, but Bull couldn’t be too sure as he didn’t know when he left or where he went. That always gave him a headache, even more so than talking to the demon thing in the first place. He needed another drink.


	4. Circumvent

The field smelled like sulfur and blood, and Gaelin could taste it on his tongue. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his muscles screamed for a break. Looking around the ramparts things seemed to be back to normal, Bull was busy smashing in the skull of some fade demon, Cassandra was ordering troops around, and Varric just picked off the last straggler across the bridge.

“Fuck,” Gaelin breathed, slumping onto a crate. They did some good work today, that should be the last camp for the moment. They would advance on the hold another day, this battle was won.

“You alright over there ‘Lin?” Varric was grinning, clapping a hand on his back. It send a lightning pain throughout his spine, but he brushed it off with a laugh.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m getting too old for fighting demons.” By the Maker everything hurt, there was a particularly nasty cut hidden under his ribs, but with a few healing remedies everything would get numbed away soon enough.

Varric threw back his head with laughter, “You and me both! The trick is: get a crossbow, makes ‘em less likely to hit you.” He winked, wiping blood off his weapon. 

Cassandra looked wholly unaffected by the battle, back straight and strong. Bull was stretching out his shoulders, but looked light on his feet, almost ready for round twenty-five. They were ruthless killing machines, and Gaelin was glad for nabbing them for the mission.

Reinstating troops into the camp was simple enough, with priorities including clean up and taking care of the deceased, and they were eternally grateful for the help. Of course Gaelin was happy to do it, as building up loyalty was their number one concern at the moment. After a well deserved resupply of rations and armor, courtesy of the Inquisition itself, the troops gave them a hearty meal for their trouble. Varric took this as an opportunity to pull some stories from people, getting them to chat about people that were missed and families they left behind.

It helped to ease the atmosphere, the scent of death couldn’t permeate in a place where light existed, and Varric had a talent for drowning out the sorrow. The sound of idle chatter and good food soothed the strain in his muscles, allowed him to take a moment to breathe.

“And obviously I couldn’t just say no I mean-what else are you gonna do when your fiance is lying in your bed clad in nothing but _your_ shield and wearing that stupid regulation helmet!” His story lifted through the air and dusted the ground with sentiment, recalling sweet memories of his love. “Marrying her had been the best decision of my life, and signing up for this shit makes me miss every minute I’m away, but hell, if I’m here on the battlefield that means she’s back at home and safe so who am I to complain.” He took a thick chug of ale, surrounded by supportive hums and cheers.

“Y’know Inquisition, there’s actually a Dalish camp just west of here that’s been dealing with the same demons, we tried helping them out but they like to keep to themselves. Something about being able to provide for themselves, ya know how they are-stubborn as all get out. Dunno if you’ll have any better luck with them ya selves, but seeing ‘em out there with their little sticks and skinny nomads gets me nervous.” The mumbling soldier kept her tone low, almost pointedly.

Gaelin’s ears twitched, he hadn’t seen a Dalish clan in ages, he didn’t even realize that they would be so close to elvish territories. The woman was right though, Dalish clans tend to be self sufficient, and especially don’t like outsiders meddling in their affairs, unless they were desperate. Usually they would be fine, hunting their own game and chasing off bandits, but trained troops couldn’t even hold off these undead. He could check on them, but what if-no, there’s no way they’d know about him and his tribe, they’re far too south for that. Gaelin would meet them as the Inquisitor, or the Herald, and even if he wanted to help from one elf to another he now represented far more than that.

“Boss, food’s getting cold,” a gravely timbre sent familiar shivers up his spine, pulling him away from his thoughts. Sure enough his soup was just on the cusp of lukewarm, and he made a show of drinking half of it down.

“Thanks Bull,” Gaelin spoke softly. He had hardly said more than a few words to him the entire mission, and didn’t even talk to him for a full two days after their...encounter. 

It wasn’t on purpose, he promised. Gaelin just got busy, making up for the day he lost, and then getting word of this mission. Clearly they were still on good terms anyway, he made sure to bring him along, knowing that Bull gets antsy left by himself. It wasn’t a big deal anyway.

“You wanna help them, don’t you?” Bull mumbled, scraping down the sides of his bowl to get every last drop.

Gaelin couldn’t respond, just giving a slight nod as he went back to staring inside his bowl. It would take some diplomacy on his part, he knew how Dalish worked, at least a little bit. Every tribe was different, maybe it wouldn’t be that hard. He just wanted to see if they were alright.

“I’ll let the others know then,” Bull nodded back, pushing himself up to take care of his bowl.

Gaelin took in a breath, ready to say something, anything, but the words died before he could even find them. Something was bugging him, not just the Dalish tribe, Bull seemed off too. A familiar guilt built up in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it down quickly. He was overthinking things again, Bull was probably tired, just like everyone else.

They headed out as soon as they could, Gaelin didn’t want to waste any time. Even though he’d never traveled through these woods before his feet seemed to guide him towards something. He could hear his companions chattering to each other behind him, but it was just white noise. The thick tree branches sang in the wind, bringing cascades of green leaves onto the floor. Animals skittered past them, Gaelin could track their prints with ease, his eyes following dust paths and broken twigs. He was completely synced up, looking for any sign of danger.

“Hey ‘Lin, sun’s getting low, want us to set up camp?” Varric pulled his eyes away from the trail, it was barely lilac out still, most of the stars were already twinkling overhead. Looking back at his companions they were stone faced, ready for orders, but the warmth in Varric’s eyes was enough.

“Yes. The horses must be tired, there should be a spot up ahead we can use, not much foot traffic.” Gaelin squared his shoulders, a sickly pop ringing out from his previously hunched position. He flicked the reins, following the last flittering of moonlight between the trees to their destination.

The overgrown ravine opened up to ruins, a crumpled up temple with overturned pillars looked to be their best bet for cover at this time of night. Gaelin signaled the others to fan out, check the surrounding area while he hopped off his horse. As he thought there was even less foot traffic here, from both animals and humanoids. No predators, just the occasional deer and shambling gaze of raccoons. Not too worrisome, it would have to make due for the night.

“All clear Boss,” Bull looked down at him from his mount, horse shuffling anxiously.

“We can set up on top of that column, it’s not the most comfortable but there’s less of a chance of getting ambushed from above.” Height was strength for this match up, easier to pounce down than climb.

Bull nodded, passing along the orders. 

-

Difficult, stubborn, irritating and quiet as always. Bastard can’t think or even shit without overthinking every little detail and the Bull was on his last legs. The Boss was good at what he did, driven and thorough, they were making good time across the plains and the forest but at the cost of Cassandra’s patience and everyone’s concern. Gaelin has had them out all night before, but it was deliberate, losing track of the sun while pretty much riding the underbelly of his horse was not.

He took deep breaths, dumping firewood into the circle for a bit of warmth in the night. Bull demanded first watch, still not convinced that these ruins weren’t in any way being used as a home for _something_. Cassandra was as always an early riser, prepared to take up the morning after him, which left him alone with the flickering of embers and the rustling of trees.

“You can stop pretending Gaelin, you’ve been wound up all day.” Bull sighed, his chest felt like it was full of rocks, weighed down by Cole’s puppy eyes. 

Shifting came from one of the sleeping bags as Gaelin slowly pulled himself upright, a weak smile on his face. “Did I worry you, Iron Bull?” His voice was a whisper, tension clear on his entire body.

“You know you do.” Bull rolled his eyes, prodding the cinders with a stick.

Gaelin had that playful glint, flirtatious and sharp witted. Bull saw through every movement already, he knew how to pretend, how to play, he was an expert on distractions.

“Lay down on your stomach.” Bull stood, dusting off his knees. There was an eagerness to the Boss, he plopped back down in his sleeping bag and waited, patiently. Bull sat himself over his thighs, careful not to crush him. “Don’t get too excited, else we’re gonna have some hot gossips on our asses.”

He peeled the covers off his top half, exposing his back to the cold starlight. There was a vial of oil always stashed in his pocket, it was better to be prepared than not when it came to coming to the battlefield. Lots of testosterone, especially when dragons showed up. Bull lathered it onto his hands, watching the small of Gaelin’s back rise and fall with uneasy breaths. 

Cole’s words ghosted into his mind again; a wounded animal, unable to do anything but howl. 

The Iron Bull smoothed his hands down scars and healing wounds, pressed pain and heartache up and out of his friend. Gaelin ground his forehead into his arms, muffling any sounds threatening to bubble forth. Bull took care of him, meticulously massaging each section of muscle, one by one. It was obvious to him, Gaelin wasn’t built for this kind of fighting, he was a persistence hunter, liked to wait for his prey to tire out before striking, storing up his energy. The fighting today took everything out of him, from the minute they arrived that morning til now they didn’t stop fighting, Gaelin even still. There were knots on knots, it almost made Bull laugh at how much he found trying to straighten out the poor little elf’s spine.

Gaelin seemed appreciative of it, twitching and tightening up at each movement, wriggling underneath the Bull’s form. It was intoxicating to watch, but Bull managed to stay focused. If anything it lightened his own heart, conditioning the Boss to a kind touch.

They stayed like that in silence until Bull was sure he had done enough, leaving Gaelin a melted puddle, hardly conscious, worn out beyond exhaustion. The elf panted softly, body slick with sweat and oil. 

“Better?”

The softest movement told Bull it was, and that was enough.

-

The morning seemed to have dulled the bite of war; no demons, no battles, just the still of the earth. Bull still felt unease in the forest, but it was lessened by time and vigilance. As they packed up camp things seem to fall in line, with Varric and Cassandra arguing about organization and ease of access.

“I’m just telling you it’s not going to matter if we put all of the support rods in one bag if we’re just going to have to distribute them later anyway. And besides, what if we get seperated, what use is a tent if you don’t have a single piece to set it up?” Varric bickered, packing his own tent up.

“It is easier to keep track of everything if it is all in one place. I would _hope_ none of us are stupid enough to get lost, and even _if_ that were to happen each one of us knows how to survive without some stupid tent.” Cassandra grumbled, burying any evidence of the remains of the fire.

“How about everyone just holds onto their own stuff alright? Then it’s your own fault if you lose your toothbrush or whatever else,” Gaelin was grinning ear to ear, rolling his eyes. He had already been packed well before anyone got around to starting. Efficient as ever, Bull smirked as he threw one of his bags over his horse’s saddle. 

“I knew we kept you around for a reason ‘Lin.” Varric smiled back, shrugging his shoulders at Cassandra.

“No I get it, the Inquisitor is wise in his years, surely he knows best, after all he can only remember few of them. Hopefully the most important ones.” Cassandra deepened her wrinkles, glaring daggers at the rest of them.

“Ho ho! You just gonna take that Boss?” Bull chuckled.

“Hm, well I would say I have before but I can’t quite remember if I did.” The elf scratched his chin inquisitively as the boys burst into a fit of laughter.

Cassandra had gotten a touch pinker in the cheeks, a good look for her. “Perhaps I should of hit you a couple more times while I had the chance.”

The banter was good, the morning was young, and they were ready to set off. All of the hard work of finding the lost nomads relied solely on Gaelin’s tracking skills, so Bull let himself settle back and wait for trouble to find them. He let his mind wander, mostly imagining what Gaelin’s next ‘therapy session’ might entail. Of course there’d be rope, maybe they could use some of that special wax he had saved for a special occasion. Putting him over the balcony would be exquisite, but definitely a bit too much. Wouldn’t want some unsavory company watching them, so maybe somewhere a tad less public. The library could be fun, push him against a bookshelf, one leg over his shoulder as he slowly swallowed down that beautiful cock of his-

The smell of sulfur hit him like a freight train, and he was off his horse before anyone else. Demons. Right on the crest of the hill he could hear their horrible sounds, nasty snarls and whines that ripped through the atmosphere. In a moment Gaelin was by his side, blades clutched in tight fists. Time to get to work.

The Iron Bull knew how to fight, despite how reckless he might seem at times. Channel the fear, the anger, and use it as a weapon, that’s what he was trained to do. Bull would take them head on, goring into one with his left horn and throwing it out of reach of the others. Divide, distract, keep them from noticing Gaelin as he disappears into their shadows. Cassandra holds up her shield, giving the Boss another path to weave through and pepper the abominations with wounds.

Varric was comfortable in the back, no ranged demons this time, and having reliable support coming over his shoulder helped him calculate. A sudden gasp from Gaelin tore his attention away for just a moment, eyes following in suit. There were a few more demons well past the hill, surrounding a small aravel full of elves. Fuck, _fuck_ , **fuck**! Before Bull could even warn him Gaelin was already off, blinded by concern, eyes clouded with fear. There were at least three demons between him and the disappearing rogue, meaning the bastard would have no backup until these were taken care of.

“Cassandra, go!” Bull squared his stance, using all of his might to swing his axe into two of them, fully intending on pushing them out of her way. He could feel his veins bulge with the strain, but the moment there was enough room the woman pushed through, shield first. Even Varric had inched closer, throwing down a poison trap just to get in some extra damage to accommodate for the split party.

Bull took deeper breaths, working himself up into a rage. He’d have to rely on instinct to guide him the rest of the fight, destroy as many demons as possible as quickly as they could. Bull wasn’t even sure exactly when he made it down the hill, covered in someone’s blood. His axe cleaved down the middle of one of the monsters, and between the pieces he saw a dalish woman fighting back, cornered.

“Nesithra!” Bull snapped his head toward the source and found Gaelin, leaping over one demon before running his blade across the next, a whirlwind of steel and desperation. The look in his eyes burned into his memory, he had never seen Gaelin look like that before, not in combat, he looked terrified.

A bolt whizzing past his ear brought him back into the battle, allowing him to focus on doing whatever he could to help. These things were tougher than those at the barracks, if he had to guess there was probably one of those fade rifts close by, unfortunate for the elves. It didn’t look like they had much in the way of warriors, whoever Nesithra was seemed like the only one who knew how to fight. They would probably have been dead if they were even minutes late.

Times like this almost made him wish they had a mage with them, probably Dorian, he’s used to demon shit right? Cassandra was doing a good job cleaning up the ones closest to the cornered elves, and it seemed like Gaelin was dead set on keeping them off Nesithra. He could work with this, things would work out. Pulling out his horn he blew, leading the pack around him further and further away from the defenseless dalish. That should calm things down a bit.

With the added elbow room he was free to really let loose, charging full tilt into a handful of the bastards, axe crashing down on whatever horrible skeletal structure these things had. Varric repositioned, keeping up a wall between the demons and their target. It took a bit of finesse, but they managed to fell the remaining few with some pointed attacks, and finally everything was still.

The ground was littered with demon blood and ash, and so were they. There was a lingering tension as everyone held their breath, waiting for more to sprout out from some crack in the universe.

But nothing came.

“I hate. Demons.” Bull glowered, kicking up a pile of ashes. At least everyone made it out alive.

“Oh?” Varric sounded way too enthused in his response, and Bull realized he was looking at something else. Gaelin. Who had dropped his knives onto the ground, and had a handful of dalish elf, kissing her like the world almost ended.

“Oh.” He echoed.

“Inquisitor, what in Maker’s name are you doing?” Cassandra looked the most shocked out of them all, eyes the size of dinner plates. Which would normally be hilarious.

The two separated quickly, Gaelin a bit shy but with a wide and knowing grin, and this Nesithra with wild bliss. “Sorry sorry, I apologize for my uh, ‘unprofessional’ behavior,” he was borderline giddy, the two of them sharing a giggle fit.

The other dalish were starting to inch out of their hiding spots, taking note of the injured and giving their band a cautious berth.

“I’m his fia-”

“She was from my clan, clan Lavallen, back before all of this.” Gaelin covered her mouth swiftly, still holding her close.

Bull had never seen him take a lover, other than himself if that counted. He’d never had any sort of relationship or rapport with anyone outside of the Inquisition as far as he knew, This was entirely new territory for everyone. They looked so natural, she fit perfectly against him, her dark hair a stark contrast to his grey. Her vallaslin-the weird little tattoos Dalish told him about, lined her cheeks, accentuating her dimples, and somehow she was even shorter than Gaelin.

“Is this?” Cassandra trailed off carefully, clearly unsure of what to make of any of this.

“No it’s not Lavallen, I was sent to help them travel north since I know these roads well.” Her eyes barely left Gaelin, drinking in every freckle and scar.

“Yes, asa’ma’lin, without you I fear we would of met a far different fate today.” A much more dignified looking elf sauntered up, pretending like he wasn’t just scared shitless like the rest of them. “I am Keeper Hawen, from where does your group hail?”

Gaelin awkwardly untangles himself from the dalish piece, extending out a hand, “Aneth ara Keeper, I am Gaelin of the Inquisition, we were passing through when we heard-”

“I know who you are, and I’m afraid although we are greatly indebted to you for what you’ve done for us today I must let you know that we are not associated with your teachings, or those of Andraste.” Hawen shook his hand, although reluctantly.

“Yes I understand, but truly I was acting out of self interest I assure you. Knowing that my people were passing through such dangerous roads concerned me, and I could think of nothing but ensuring for your safety.” Gaelin’s eyes flicked to Nesithra, “I had no idea someone from my clan would of been with you.”

“From what I understand she is not _your_ clan anymore yes?” Hawen’s brow was firm, challenging.

“I...you are right Keeper, I am not Lavallen any longer-”

“Then you are also no longer our people harellan.”

Anger flickered in Gaelin’s eyes, forced to confront something none of the party knew about. It made sense to Bull, exile, the missing puzzle piece in the little elf’s past. Nesithra was clearly close to him, an old flame, maybe more. Dalish customs weren’t as familiar to him, but from what he understood there were a few steadfast rules, and he must of done something bad for news to get around this far.

To his left he could see Cassandra clenching her teeth tightly. This wasn’t their place, Gaelin could handle it, they made their own peace, they saved the innocents.

“Yes of course Keeper, sorry to have bothered you. I wish you well on your journey, dareth shiral.” Gaelin breathed, giving a respectful nod as he turned to reconvene with the rest of the party.

“Gaelin wai-”

“Lasa ra dara Nesithra!” Hawen hissed, holding her back. Bull watched him whisper to her in elvish, but all he saw was the longing in her eyes. 

“Let’s keep moving, there’s a rift nearby that has to be closed.” Gaelin didn’t stop moving, whistling for the horses. 

It made his stomach churn but Bull knew there was no solution to this, so he let it happen, giving the elf a solid nod, trying to ignore the weight of everything that just happened.

-

They spent the day giving that hill a wide berth, fighting as much as they could. Cassandra kept trying to argue, insist on trying to gain the tribes favor, get in good with the other elves, but there was no convincing him. That was the thing, it wasn’t like Gaelin was shocked, he wasn’t upset or ready to break down. He just looked...disappointed.

When night fell they set up camp back in the forest. Gaelin said they should go back to Skyhold and figure out their next mission from there, having done more than enough here for the time being.

“Besides,” he continued, “I doubt it would do much good with Keeper Hawen and his clan distracting us.” It was the first time since it happened that he even mentioned the elves.

“More like distracting you eh? So who was she? I’ve never even seen you court anybody, ‘cept stringing old bird brain along.” Varric chuckled, polishing Bianca by the fire.

“Doesn’t matter anymore now does it Varric.” Gaelin sighed, taking a long swig of the communal mead. “It was a long time ago anyway, we just got caught up in the moment. Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten a little bothered when she gets a nice shot in.” He winked at the crossbow, to which Varric shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

“Tell us then, what happened? Why did they say those things? Why are you so okay with this?” Cassandra looked like she was about to jump out of her seat with righteous fury.

Gaelin heaved out another long sigh, eyes trained on the fire. “I was the leader of my tribe, and I was banished for killing an elder’s son.”

“So we’re just diving straight into then.” Bull chuckled, taking a drink of his own personal stash.

“There’s not much else to it is there? I fucked up, someone died, it was my fault so I went down for it and got exiled. End of story.”

“Right right, so where’s the girl come into all of this? Was it some forbidden love kind of thing, she’d clearly still got the hots for you?” Varric had a notepad and quil out, already scribbling down some notes.

Gaelin scoffed, “Need some fresh material? Anything you could come up with is probably more interesting.” There was a hesitation, a pause that seemed far too deliberate. It wasn’t just how hard Gaelin was avoiding talking about it, it was the way he brushed it off. “Unless there’s something deathly important could this wait til the morning? I’m about to fall asleep sitting up.” Gaelin didn’t wait for an answer, getting up to retire to his tent.

“Yea yea keep your secrets ‘Lin, I’ll take first watch this time. Won’t be able to sleep anyway,” Varric chuckled, scribbling more down.

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but Bull put a finger over his mouth, a tense expression on his face, stopping her. He pointed to himself then put up two fingers, claiming second watch for himself. She seemed to understand, giving a stern nod. “I expect something more in the morning Inquisitor!”

Bull sat back, taking his turn to stare at the fire. This was big, he could feel it in his bad knee, this is something Gaelin’s been both expecting and dreading for a long time that he just had to confront. It’s ground zero for his trauma, why he leads like he does, why he pushes himself. Gaelin realized that, which is why he’s doing everything he can to move on. But of course he can’t just move on.

The first shift came and went, and Bull was nudged awake by a sleepy and satisfied Varric. He must of got some good writing in, and he pats him on the back on his way to his tent. The fire was just embers now, which was fine with Bull. He was used to the darkness, and right now it was going to work in his favor.

For someone as large as he was, Bull knew how to conceal himself, how to disappear into the background. It’s easier at a bar or someplace with a lot of noise and distractions, but it wasn’t impossible for an almost silent full moon night, not for a ben-hassrath. So he took his first opportunity to confirm his suspicions, was Gaelin even in the camp. He slipped by Varric’s rustling tent, and tiptoed by Cassandras, making a beeline for Gaelin. Slipping a thumb under the animal skin, he peered into the darkness of the tent, looking for the small elvish figure. Nothing. He hummed to himself, giving the darkness a nod.

So he waited.

In the shadows.

For his elf to return.

-

The sun was already starting to crest over the earth. The sky was lightening, shadows just barely starting to form. Animals were crossing paths, as the nocturnal go to sleep and the morning birds arrive. Dew was weighing down the grass, leaving the air wet and lingering. Soft footsteps arrived, trying to hide to the best of their ability. You could hear the hesitation, the nerves, anxiety filling them up and clamoring up their calf, twisting and pulling them hard back to the forest ground. The form was sitting, hunched by the fire that had been cold long before they even arrived, waiting.

“Did you see her?”

A whisper, stolen by the wind and the rustling of trees.

“Yes.”

The word felt heavy on his tongue, a confession of guilt.

“Who is she?”

“Bull you know I can’t tell you, ask me anything please, just not that, not her,” his voice cracked, bubbling from trembling lips, wet with tears.

“Is it because you love her?”

“It-it’s because of who you are, what you are, you just can’t know Bull.” A few steps back, the slide of leaves against his feet.

He opened his mouth again to speak but the elf cut him off with another whisper, “This isn’t a problem you can fix, not the way things are right now.”

There was hesitation in every moment, Gaelin was keeping something secret against his own wants and needs. He was desperate, but he didn’t see any other option. This wasn’t a conversation the two of them could have. They weren’t allowed to. And the Iron Bull was starting to understand why.

“Rest, I’ll get everything ready.” He pushed up from where he sat, resigned, bitter, almost hurt, but understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After literally forever, here is chapter 4. I hope everyone enjoys, I've been stuck on this plot point for awhile and it never felt satisfying until I finally sat down and wrote it all out. Not how things happened in my play through, but much more interesting. One day they'll get back to romancing, maybe not this particular day though lol. 
> 
> I used some canon phrases cause I didn't really know what else to use, and the last one i got from using https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI
> 
> Aneth ara: Greetings  
> Harellan: Traitor  
> Dareth shiral: Safe journey/Farewell  
> Lasa ra dara: Let it go
> 
> Also Gaelin's song is definitely If I'm Being Honest by Dodie because he's just so stupid and thinks he's pining by himself and doesn't see that Bull is completely in love with him already. Disaster son. I stan one idiot.


End file.
